


No Laughing Matter

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Police Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: Yaz finally turned around. The Doctor was wearing her uniform, her truncheon, and a smile.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	No Laughing Matter

"Doctor," asked Yaz, "when were you a copper?" She held the framed diploma out in front of her and squinted at it. The alien script faded in and out of English as the TARDIS did its thing.

The Doctor grabbed the flimsy cardboard box (which was labelled 'Sausage Rolls #3 - Spicy') from Yaz's side of the wardrobe. "Hey! My truncheon!"

In Yaz's professional opinion, it definitely was _not_ a truncheon, baton, cosh, or any other source of blunt-force trauma. She stifled a smile and reached for the next box. She'd been around the Doctor long enough to know that she shared a toddler's most annoying character traits. Just asking wasn't going to get her a direct answer.

"Oh, wicked, and my old uniform too!"

If that was a uniform then Yaz knew a lot less about police work than she thought she did.

The Doctor twiddled her 'uniform' around her finger. In her other hand she brandished the truncheon. "That was a fun year."

Yaz could feel the Doctor's grin like the warm summer sun on the back of her neck, but she kept her eyes on her task. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cracking up.

"The first thing you have to know about the Gavron-choo!" said the Doctor.

"Bless you," said Yaz dutifully.

"No, they're called the Gavron-choo! The sneeze is part of their name. So I suppose, the _second_ thing you have to know is that they communicate through sign language. And sneezes."

The box marked 'Lenses, Cheese, Parrot' contained hats. Yaz put it to one side.

"So I was telling this joke, you probably know it already, the one about the Naxraxian spindle spinner and the three hundred boring grandmothers..."

"Mmm-hmm," said Yaz. She pulled the last box out of the bottom shelf. The cardboard crumbled and a load of dusty paperback romance novels tumbled over her lap. She started stacking them neatly to one side.

"When along comes the Constable, tells me I'm breaking the law! Can you imagine, a whole civilisation where telling jokes is illegal?"

Yaz could feel the Doctor pacing the room behind her, but she refused to be distracted. She was fed up of having nowhere in the TARDIS to call her own. If they were going to be together then she was going to empty half of this wardrobe, no matter what.

"And it says to me, thanks very much, you're the law around here now, until someone funnier comes along. It gives me the uniform and this," she waggled the truncheon in front of Yaz, "and nips off. Who knew laughing was such a serious business?"

The next box was light. It contained the biggest dust bunny that Yaz had ever seen. She closed the lid carefully. Her hands were trembling. She clasped them into fists.

"Turns out being the Constable on Gavron isn't so bad. You go around trying to make the Gavron-choo! laugh at your jokes, and if they do, they're nicked. 'Course, then you lose your job."

Yaz figured out from the time between slapping noises that the Doctor must be tossing the truncheon up in the air and catching it. She tried to sound bored. "You were there a year and nobody laughed once?"

"I know! They're a tough crowd. Lucky for me I had the truncheon too."

Yaz blinked three times before finding her voice. "Is it," she croaked, "a _funny_ truncheon?"

There was a low buzzing noise. Yaz finally turned around. "You could say that," said the Doctor. She was wearing her uniform, her truncheon, and a smile.

Yaz stood up quickly. She looked the Doctor in the eye. "Doesn't seem so funny to me."

"It's more amusing up close," said the Doctor. She advanced.  
  
Yaz nodded carefully, keeping her eyes up. "So did they all run away from you? The Gavron-"

"Choo!" finished the Doctor. "See, now, it's starting to work, isn't it? I know it sounds like a mad system, but it worked for them. Some of the loveliest, most serious people I've ever met."

Yaz had pressed herself back against the wardrobe door. She was having trouble keeping a straight face.

The Doctor was a single step away, her buzzing truncheon hanging between them. She waved her arms around. "I just told a wicked joke in Gav. You should be in stitches." She looked up and around, processing. "Why's she not laughing? The TARDIS should process sign languages..."

"Maybe because I don't know which side of a Fallopian pancake you'd normally butter?" said Yaz. Her cheek twitched as the truncheon made contact with her jeans. "Uh. Are you sure you're doing it properly?"

"Well, the Gavron-"

"Choo!" interrupted Yaz.

"Gesundheit," said the Doctor. "Don't wear clothes, as a rule."

"I wondered why you..." Yaz gestured. "You know."

The Doctor took a step back and looked down. "Nice, isn't it. Still haven't got used to all these new bits. The uniform still fits, though!"

The uniform was just enough bits of webbing strapped around the Doctor's tufted blonde crotch to hold the dome-headed, buzzing truncheon proudly at attention. Yaz felt her knees quivering. "I don't expect," she said, "something like that'll make me laugh. Not even if..."

The Doctor was nimble-fingered. Yaz's jeans were around her ankles before she'd even thought of how to finish her sentence. "Alright, Yaz?"

Yaz was looking distinctly eager, but she fought to keep a smile from her face a moment longer. "Alright, Doctor," she said. "No funny stuff, eh?"

The Doctor's face blazed nova bright. As soon as she pressed ever so gently forward, slipping the vibrating head of the truncheon past Yaz's slick opening, Yaz felt the giggles rising uncontrollably.

"Ah-ha-ha!" she exploded, before clamping her lips together. "Hee-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha..." Louder and louder, as the Doctor thrust deeper inside her, Yaz convulsed with glee. She laughed and laughed as the Doctor started to gyrate against her, grabbing on as if for dear life.

The Doctor muffled Yaz for a moment with a kiss, but her chuckling didn't stop for a second. The madly vibrating head of the truncheon was driving the giggles up from Yaz's convulsing walls through her churning stomach to the taut muscles of her neck. She felt like one of those puppets that only stands up when the string gets pulled tight. Every time the Doctor packed her with her thick truncheon she tensed everywhere and every time the Doctor pulled out the laughter exploded out of her.

Yaz's feet left the ground as the Doctor pushed her hard against the wardrobe. She bent her knees and kicked back, revelling in the feeling of being filled and crushed at the same time, laughing at the silliness of it all. The wardrobe doors slammed on their hinges.

The Doctor staggered backwards. "Steady, Yaz!"

"Hee-ha-mmmf," said Yaz. She pulled herself higher by the Doctor's shoulders and planted one on her lips.

They teetered for a moment while Yaz bounced energetically, knees flailing while the Doctor struggled to keep her bum firmly in hand. Then they were falling backwards onto the bed, and it was all Yaz from then on.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" cried Yaz as she impaled herself repeatedly on the Doctor's ridiculous vibrating appendage. "Doctor! Knock! Knock!"

The Doctor, eyes widening, grabbed Yaz's hips. "Who's there?"

"Haaaaaaaaaah!" Yaz screamed. "Doc-tooooooooor!"

It went on for some time. The Doctor pulled Yaz close and whispered the punchline into her ear. Yaz's laughter wound down from its crescendo. She held her in place until the giggles had mostly gone and her chest had given up heaving.

"Exactly," murmured Yaz.


End file.
